Welcome To My Nightmare
by Sammyoyo
Summary: Anger can be a powerful force. So powerful, it may have consequences beyond imagination. When Mike abandons Lucy, anger drives her to get revenge; to reach out into the shadows and show Mike what it's like to be truly alone; alone in his own nightmare.
1. Reprisal

The rain was falling steadily over Roseville, pattering off roofs and pooling in the hollows and pockmarks that littered the sidewalk. It rained on the houses. It rained on the trees. But most of all, it rained on the two figures who were traipsing noisily through the park.

Lucy jabbed her finger into Mike's chest.

"Oh? So you deserve better? Not good enough, am I? Just something to be discarded!" she shouted, fists clenched. "Thrown away! So after all this time, I'm nothing?"

"Oh, grow up, Lucy. You know it had to come sooner or later.", growled Mike. "I'm moving to Rickter and that's it. It has nothing to do with you."

Lucy's slap sent Mike staggering sideways. He turned to her, eyes narrowed, his voice suddenly quiet.

"I thought we could part on equal terms, Lucy. I thought you'd be mature enough to handle it. But no, still clinging on like always." He turned to leave. "Find someone else. Leave me alone."

Lucy watched him go. She felt the anger bubbling inside her, blinding her to the rain and the dark.

"You'll never be free from me, Mike. I'll make sure of _that_." She looked up. "Never!"

It was half past ten by the time Mike had packed everything for the move. He looked around his bedroom, now sadly barren. Blur was out someplace, with a promise to return by the following morning, and his mom was in the lounge.

The Korat sighed, collapsing backwards onto the bed. It seemed much smaller nowadays; his feet touched the end when he stretched out. In fact, the entire room seemed smaller, accentuated by the lack of posters that had previously adorned the walls, now packed into the case which lay at his feet.

The clock downstairs in the hallway chimed eleven, waking Mike from his reverie. He rubbed his eyes, and picked up the card that lay on his bedside table. It showed a Sakura, a flowing cherry tree, in full blossom. Underneath it, a different hand had drawn two figures. Mike opened the card, and read for the thousandth time the flowery, flowing script:

"Maishul,

I hope this card arrives safely, I know how unreliable the postal services are round here! I've already got my stuff moved into the apartment, and the bed is nice and warm! Can't wait for you to arrive. Miss you so much..

All my love ,yours forever,

Sandy"

Mike traced with a finger the ornate text, his mind elsewhere. He put the card down delicately on the table, on top of his cell and wallet. Yawning hugely, he lifted up the duvet and settled into the mattress. Darkness closed in on his vision, and he felt himself drifting off to sleep.

Outside his window, a shadow detached itself from the multitude of others that outlined the darkness. It drifted over to his window, and slid underneath. The air around Mike's sleeping form rippled and contorted, and the Korat appeared to deflate in some way. The shadow withdrew, and the air was still once more. Mike's breathing slowed, and, with a quiet sigh, stopped.


	2. Into the Dark

Mike woke with a jolt. All was darkness around him, the air seemingly thick with shadows. He put his hand in front of his face, and was unable to see it.

"Power cut.", he muttered to himself. He got up off the bed, and made his way blindly to the door. Reaching out, he grasped the handle, turned it and tugged. The door would not open. He frowned, and tried again. It seemed totally stuck, as if someone was pushing on it from the other side. (Not some_thing_, Mike told himself firmly). He turned around and, groping through the dark, touched his bedside table. His hands found his alarm clock, and he flicked the switch on the back. The screen came to life; however, it was flickering and seemed at some points to go out entirely. On top of that, there were no numbers; rather, meaningless symbols flowed across the screen, changing all the time. Mike felt a shiver go down his spine, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood straight up. He turned around to the window, and looked out. A grey light seemed to be flowing from a point in the sky; it seemed to do nothing, rather than outline the shadows which flowed and eddied across the ground.

As the light grew, Mike could pick out more detail in the street. The buildings were torn and wrecked, walls collapsing and roofs caved in. The light grew brighter still, and the entire street came into view, save for the areas in alleyways or under rubble where the shadows still flowed and twisted.

Mike realized with a surge of panic what he was looking at. It was his street, but it was…strange. Looking past the wrecks and shells of houses, Mike peered into the distance. He found his gaze drawn almost inorexibly to other things, as if there was something that was stopping him from looking into the haze that blocked out the horizon.

He tore himself away from the window, and took a look at his room. It was the same as it always had been, and yet it too was different somehow. Perhaps it was the darkness that rimmed his vision, always there but disappearing whenever he tried to focus on it.

Mike walked across the room, and tried the door handle again. The lock clicked, and the door swung lazily open, revealing the narrow hallway. The end was totally dark, but Mike again found his gaze averted. He climbed carefully down the stairs, pausing at intervals to listen for any sounds. All he could hear was carefully textured silence.

He peered around the living room door. In the other rooms, there had been no disruption, just a feeling of general wrong-ness. In here, however, the destruction was clear. The TV was lying on its side, apparently undamaged, with a liberal coating of glass frosting coating the plastic body, the origin of which became apparent when a breeze blew the curtains that covered the windows aside, revealing the smashed glass pane behind. Mike looked more carefully at the couch, which had been flung across the room and now lay shattered in a corner, and then sprung back, bile rising in his throat.

Fused to the bodywork was a corpse. Its skin hung in tatters, revealing the black, festering flesh underneath. The eye sockets were empty, the holes filled with crusted blood. Mike staggered backwards, and tripped over an upturned stool. He ran to the front door, and wrenched it open.

The air outside was cold, with a smell of rotting leaves invading Mike's sensitive nostrils. He stepped carefully over a pile of rubble, and began to walk down the street.

"Lucy?" he called cautiously. "Paulo? Daisy?"

He looked around at the houses; they were dark and empty. Now he thought about it, the only house that seemed to be whole was his own. The rest were smashed and torn, with some missing walls and roofs.

He turned a corner, and stopped dead. Standing in front of him was Lucy, but she too looked different. Mike couldn't quite focus on her, as if she wasn't altogether there. She smiled faintly, a cold, twisted grimace that seemed to throw her whole face into shadow. She raised her head, and looked at Mike.

"Hello, old friend." She said. "I see you made your way here safely. Excellent."

Mike took a step back.

"Where are we? Where is everyone?" he said. "Why is everything broken?"

Lucy just kept on smiling. She looked at Mike, her eyes narrowed.

"I think you know why you are here." She put her hand up teasingly to her mouth. "For too long, we've been playing your games. Now, it's your turn to play." Her smile grew all the wider. "But this time, the rules are _mine_." She threw her head back and laughed, a horrible, screeching cackle that made Mike instinctively curl up, hands over his ears. When he looked up, she had gone. In her place was a door. He stepped forward and looked it up and down. It was just a simple, wooden door, apparently standing of its own volition in the middle of the road. He walked slowly around it, taking in every detail. Taking a deep breath, he grasped the door handle firmly. As he did, the world seemed to darken. Shadows were now flowing lithely across the ground, covering the houses and the road. The light dimmed and faded. The ground seemed to open up under Mike's feet, and a thousand screaming voices washed over him. With a cry, he pulled on the door and stepped through.


End file.
